The Language of Blossoms
by The Beauty Underneath
Summary: Because the relationship between the Phantom and Christine is far too powerful for mere spoken word; when the music goes quiet, a silent language takes its place...in the form of flowers. A Phantom/Christine told in 250 word drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! This is a drabble story, which means all of the story content within the chapters is a set number of words, in this case 250. Each chapter will be a snippet from the lives and the growing relationship between the Phantom and Christine Daae and will be represented by a flower theme with a meaning behind it. Enjoy!

A number of wonderfully creative people are responsible for the making of this musical/book/movie...but I unfortunately do not own it in any way.

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Admiration<strong>

The first time Christine Daae set foot in the Opera Populaire, her Papa was holding on tightly to her hand and her world was filled with nothing but smiles and sunshine and music. The Opera House was nothing less than a playground for a child such as her. She would scurry about the catwalks, she would play dress up with Meg Giry in the costume room, but, perhaps most importantly, she would plop herself down in the very center of the stage and _sing_.

Even as a small child, her sweet soprano voice turned heads. The women would sigh, the men would smile, and her Papa would beam with unmistakable pride. It was the perfect prologue for the woman who would one day decide the fate of the Opera House.

She didn't understand the whispers back then, the rumors and hushed stories. Her Papa protected her from frightening things like ghosts and phantoms.

For now, though, this was not yet her home, not yet her time. As Papa called to his _petite diva_, Christine reluctantly stood from her seat on the stage to follow him. However, when she turned to go, a flash of color caught her eye. A few seconds later, the most perfect light pink rose touched the ground at her feet.

Christine looked up, straining her eyes against the shadows of backstage, but saw nothing but black.

"Christine?"

Lightly cradling her new treasure, Christine followed her beckoning Papa, ignorant of the new admirer who watched her go.

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><p><em>Light pink rose: <em>_**Admiration**__, Sympathy, Gentleness, Grace, Gladness, Joy, and Sweetness._


	2. Chapter 2

If I owned Phantom, it would have ended a whole hell of a lot differently.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Return to Happiness <strong>

When Christine Daae returned to the Opera Populaire, it was Madame Giry holding her hand. This Christine had shadows in her eyes and tear stains on her cheeks. She did not frolick behind the scenes; there were no trips to the prop and costume rooms, and her sobs came too strongly for her to sing when she sat on stage.

This Christine was a mere shadow of the girl she had been during her first visit.

Worried for the future health and happiness of her charge, Madame Giry did her best to find a place where Christine could cope with her father's death, but she was at a loss. However, one night, while rocking the child who had woken screaming from night terrors, she experienced a moment of clarity.

Wrapping the girl in a blanket, she took her candle and led her from the bedroom to a place not even Christine had seen before. A narrow, stone stairwell befuddled the already confused child until she came to stand in the small room at its base….and saw the angelic portraits that adorned its walls.

From then on, at least one moment in Christine's day was spent in the little chapel at the bottom of the stairs. She placed her favorite picture of Papa in one of the picture frames and prayed for the strength to live in a world without him.

One morning, she arrived to find a bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley with a short note:

_You will not be sad forever._

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><p><em>Lily of the Valley:<em>_ Sweetness, Tears of the Virgin Mary, __**Return to Happiness**__, Humility, You've Made My Life Complete_


	3. Chapter 3

So, I messed with history to fit the plotline of my story, but who hasn't? Bastille day is a real holiday (sort of like American Independence Day, only celebrated on July 14th), but it wasn't really a thing in France until 1878….8 years after the setting for the Phantom of the Opera.

Eh, close enough.

If I owned Phantom of the Opera, Raoul would have at least had manly hair.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Your Friendship Means So Much to Me<strong>

Though Christine was not French, she found Bastille Day to be of importance, not for its meaning, but for what she learned on that day.

Sometime during the festivities, a woman handed her a yellow flower. Thanking her with a soft smile, Christine asked what it was for.

"It's Bastille Day, deary! Don't you know an iris when you see one? It's France's flower!"

Christine's curiosity peaked. "Really? The flower. . . iris. . . stands for France?"

"All flowers have meanings! Iris, for instance doesn't just mean 'France'. It can also be 'your friendship means so much to me'."

She was shocked at the sheer enthusiasm on the little girl's face, and even more so by the way she gave a quick wave and took off running down the streets heading for the Opera House.

Christine could have found her way to the chapel blindfolded by now. By the time she reached the bottom of the stone steps, she was breathing like a run racehorse gripping the flower tightly in her little hand.

Looking up at the angel portrait on the wall, she initiated conversation with the mystery figure for the first time.

"I don't know who you are, or why you're doing such nice things for me, but I wanted to say thank you to you in the proper. . . your way."

She never saw the figure gingerly picking up his newest treasure, and would never fully understand just how deeply he was touched by her gesture.

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><p><em>Iris: <em>_Fleur-de-lis, Emblem of France, __**Your Friendship Means so Much to Me**__, Faith, Hope, Wisdom and Valor, My Compliments_


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the sporadic updating over the last few days. I'm just overcoming a bout of nasty pneumonia. Ewww.

Read and Review! I'm curious to know what you guys think of this!

If I owned Phantom he'd be over here writing me some music.

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: I Am Worthy of You<strong>

Something changed when little Christine Daae gave her mysterious guardian his flower. From then on, she would come to the chapel once a day, sit on the cold stone ground in front of the angel portrait and simply. . . talk.

The Phantom, as he was now used to being called, was pleased with this development, but he could also see that she needed more than that. Despite her contentedness with having a silent companion, he knew she _deserved_ more.

Christine Daae needed a friend.

Meg Giry should have been sufficient, but even Erik could see that the two girls were as different as night and day, despite how often they were thrown together, but what would a dangerous, foul creature such as himself know of friendship and compatibility. If Christine and Meg were night and day, then Christine and Erik were oil and water. Christine was calm, soothing, serene; Erik was fiery, foul, and never meant to mix with water.

But her flower, her soft-spoken words of friendship, the smile she would turn and give to him. . . they all spoke a different tale.

So, one day, when Christine came to the chapel, she noticed that on her usual seat was a small, white rose. Tentatively, she picked it up and examined it before turning to the wall.

"I'm sorry; I don't know these flowers like you do. What does it mean?"

Taking a deep breath and gathering his courage, the Phantom replied, "I am worthy of you."

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><p><em>White Rose: Purity, Innocence, Silence, Secrecy, Reverence, Humility, Youthfulness, <em>_**"I am worthy of you"**__, Heavenly_


	5. Chapter 5

I know that the Phantom is most criticized for his making himself Christine's precious Angel of Music and sort of hypnotizing her, so I wanted to paint a more innocent picture. This is how I think this would have gone down. Enjoy! And remember to review!

If I owned Phantom of the Opera, Erik would be my Angel of Music.

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: Truth<strong>

Without her Papa's protection, it wasn't long until the tales reached her little ears, whispers of a dark, dangerous creature who roamed the passageways of the Opera House. The stories painted a shadowy, disfigured half-man who found pleasure in tormenting innocent ballerinas and who killed the man who wandered too close to his lair.

Christine heard this, was scared near to death by Joseph Buquet's horrid descriptions, knew that both Giry's believed in this Phantom of theirs, and wondered.

She wondered just who was on the other side of that portrait.

At the same time she heard these stories, she had dreams. She dreamed of Papa sometimes, but most of the time she saw angels, heard music, and heard that voice. . . _his_ voice.

So, one day, after doing her research, she walked down to the chapel lightly fingering the petals of a white chrysanthemum and sat in her usual spot. It wasn't long until he appeared.

"Why do you bring that with you, Christine," he asked curiously.

Not looking up, she answered. "Do you believe in angels?"

He knew how she believed in her father's angel, and didn't want to shame her precious stories. "I believe. . . that there are people who watch over us, people who protect us like angels."

She was smiling now. "Do you like music?"

"I would not be living in an Opera House if I did not, Christine," he answered amusedly.

And thus began the relationship between Christine Daae and her Angel of Music.

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><p><em>White Chrysanthemum: <em>_**Truth**_


	6. Chapter 6

A snippet from Christine's childhood showing, what I imagine, would have been the difficulty in growing up in a place like an Opera House.

If I owned Phantom, I would at least be able to sing along without sounding like a banshee.

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: Girlhood<strong>

Though it was a sort of surreal lifestyle for the child living in the Opera House, it was also a struggle in ways very few realized.

Christine was seven when she came to call the Opera House her home, young enough to be a child yet aware of the world in a way no child should be.

With her Papa she was cherished and educated through the morals of great stories. Here, she was largely ignored in all the hustle and bustle, and the stories she heard had no morals to them. In the invisibility cast over her, she saw, she heard, and she learned through example.

By the time her eighth birthday came, Christine already felt as if lifetimes had passed her by.

Luckily, though, she took comfort in the fact that she had a friend to confide all of this too. She expressed her confusion in what she thought she knew, in whom she was, in what was right and wrong.

So, that birthday morning, as she came down the chapel stairs, the first thing she saw was a rather impressive book topped with a bouquet of white rosebuds. On closer inspection, she saw that it was a directory of flowers and meanings.

Flipping to the proper page in the book, she saw that someone had written next to the definition in a script she recognized.

_Shield your innocence; hold close the heroes of your Papa's stories; and, above all, treasure who you are, for I already do. _

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><p><em>White Rosebud: symbolic of <em>_**girlhood**_


	7. Chapter 7

Mama Giry is one of my favorite people ever, and one tough cookie.

If I owned Phantom, I would by default own her pimpstaff and my life would be complete.

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Mother<strong>

There was little that went on in the Opera House without Madame Giry knowing about it, but she didn't question so much as breathe a sigh of relief at the way Christine was pulled out of her misery. She wasn't worried when she found that Christine was in the chapel every day.

However, when she enquired about the new book and flowers and heard the enthusiastic praise for Christine's newest "friend", it took Madame Giry's sharp mind less than a minute to figure out what was going on.

When night fell, Giry employed her soft dancer steps to retrieve the book from Christine's room and stroll down to the chapel undetected. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she called out to the boy she had once saved.

Knowing she hated talking through a wall to him, he pushed through the metal grate to stand in front of her, only to find that she held open a picture of a daylily for him.

"I am not her mother," Giry said slowly. "But I think of her as a daughter also. While I suspect you have something to do with her lightened disposition, and thank you for it, I would remind you that she holds a share of my heart equal to yours."

"And I shall continue to protect my place in your heart." But Giry shook her head.

"Do not bother protecting something already set it stone when you hold an even greater piece of a more fragile heart."

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><p><em>Daylily: C<em>_oquetry, Chinese Emblem for __**Mother**_


	8. Chapter 8

I started out thinking that 'Magic' was the best meaning for this chapter, but now I'm starting to think that they all apply pretty well. I love the honest trust between the two here.

Oh! And remember! Reviews = Happy Authors = Faster Updates ;)

If I owned Phantom, there would be a lot less noosing and a lot more flowers.

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Magic<strong>

It was only natural that, with Madame Giry as her guardian, Christine would take up ballet. Though Meg was the prodigy, Christine possessed natural skill. However, when she came to the chapel to show her friend her newest ballet shoes, he could see right away that her heart was not in it. When he asked, she admitted as much.

"Why do it then?"

With a sad smile, she replied, "I missed the music."

Even now, the haunting voice of a younger Christine echoed in his mind, teasing at his senses and stirring the dark music in his soul. There was such potential there… such beauty…

"Even when you could make it yourself?"

He saw pain flicker in her eyes before she shut them, and nearly regret his words.

But, then, she whispered, "I want to, but it reminds me of him."

"Then let me help you," he encouraged fervently. "Let me give it new meaning and return its magic. Come and sing with me."

He saw the tears that fell down her face, even as she opened her eyes and smiled up at him. "I trust you."

To his dismay, the tears would not stop and he cursed the wall between them. "Christine…"

"Will you sing for me?"

So he did, just because she asked. He sang a beautiful melody, only to be overcome when she started to sing with him.

A fern adorned the corner of the chapel then, and Christine would always wonder how it stayed so green.

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><p><em>Fern: <em>_**Magic**__, Fascination, Confidence and Shelter_


	9. Chapter 9

Because sometimes the Phantom only does what he has to in order to keep Christine safe and happy.

If I owned Phantom, I would have a friend just like Erik.

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine: In Memory<strong>

In Christine's mind, she had been in the Opera House a few months. So, when she caught sight of a calendar that would mark her first anniversary, she couldn't believe it. In a few short days, it would be a year since she walked through those doors. In even less time, it would be the first anniversary of her Papa's death.

A sadness that hadn't touched her for some time now suddenly loomed threateningly. A whole year without Papa, and she hadn't even realized it?

Christine felt as if she had betrayed her father's memory. She was so ashamed; she couldn't even go down to the chapel.

When Christine didn't show up, though, her friend instinctively knew something was wrong, and sought her out.

Alone in the room she shared with other ballerinas, she started at his voice.

"You would prefer to sulk then come to me?"

"I didn't even realize…a whole year…"

Her words were random and convoluted, but he made sense of them eventually.

"I feared this would happen," he whispered gently.

She wheeled around to face him. "You knew," she accused.

"I've kept you too occupied for sad thoughts and memories." A flower with a beautiful array of colors fell from the rafters to the bed. "Your Papa would not want you to mourn every day."

When the anniversary came, she laid the Phantom's flower on her Papa's grave her head against the stone steps wanting to say a million things…but found herself unable to speak them.

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><p><em>Mixed Zinnia<em>_**: In Memory**__ of an Absent Friend_


	10. Chapter 10

Because it's all fun and games until Joseph Buquet shows up and shatters the rose-tinted windows.

Read and REVIIIEEEWWWW.

If I owned Phantom of the Opera...Joseph Buquet would have an understanding of basic hygiene.

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten: Beware<strong>

One day, Christine found a secluded perch between catwalks, and sat to watch as masters painted the backdrop for the Opera House's newest production. This particular backdrop was a garden scene.

It was almost complete, and Christine couldn't help but watch in wide-eyed awe as plain, white canvas became a country garden, covered in sprays of the most colorful of blossoms. Flowers Christine now recognized littered different parts of the painting, and she was proud to see she knew them all by heart.

She had, in the time she had been sitting, made it a game for herself to see how quickly she could identify and find the meaning for the newly-painted flower. It was all good fun…until she heard the sound of footsteps doing rounds on the catwalks, and the voice of Joseph Buquet, a man who made her skin crawl with just one gap-toothed leer.

"I tell ya, no good will come of it hauntin' us. There's a demon behind these walls, and this theater and its folk inside are just catering to its every whim. You'll see; there'll come a day when he won't be so tame."

Christine thought about Buquet's words long after he left, momentarily forgetting all about her new game. It wasn't until sometime later that she turned back to the backdrop to see that everyone had left, and she had missed one new purple flower.

Monkshood. A deep, visceral part of Christine shuddered at both Buquet's premonition and the thought of that future.

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><p><em>Monkshood: <em>_**Beware**__, A Deadly Foe is Near._


	11. Chapter 11

Because even a phantom can be touched by the kindness of a child.

If I owned Phantom of the Opera, I would have shown this part of the story before all the angst and noosage and Raoul.

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Affection<strong>

Those days when Christine would visit him every day in the chapel were the happiest of Erik's life. Never before could he remember being with someone and feeling so…wanted.

On days when her smile made the dark room seem bright and on days when her sadness was a tangible space between them, she would come to sit with him, come to talk, come to sing.

The sirens of ancient lore could not hold a tenth of the power over him that little Christine Daae could with just her voice. Already it held a grip on his soul, but, as he continued to work with her, it became something even more beautiful.

There was a piece of him in her voice, a permanent influence that could not be shaken nor removed. Just that thought made his heart beat faster and his unrelenting memories fade away.

He felt good when he was with Christine, like those unshakable sins of his past could be overshadowed by her purity. He felt like a new man whenever he saw the sunshine of her eyes or felt the warmth of her smile.

If he had left his mark on Christine's voice, then she had left her own on his heart.

On the nights he returned from the dark streets of Paris to the Opera House, he ran his hands over the ivy that grew along the brick walls and let himself forget the darkness of the world around them, cherishing the warmth of their shared affection.

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><p><em>Ivy: <strong>Affection<strong>_


	12. Chapter 12

Enter: the conflict-causing male entity. THE PLOT THICKENS.

If I owned Phantom, Raoul's parents would have actually put a stop to things before they got out of hand.

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: Goodbye<strong>

The years flew by like petals on the wind. The Opera House never changed. Erik never changed, but Christine…

Christine was budding into a young woman right before everyone's eyes.

This girl-child of fourteen was as beautiful as her hidden voice. There were days the Phantom found himself in awe of her very appearance.

One day like any other, she tip-toed into the chapel, her dancer disposition only becoming more apparent as her training continued, but Erik noticed that her head was bowed and she played with the hem of her skirt.

It was the look of a guilty child.

It didn't take her long to confess. "I'm going away for the summer, to visit some old family friends."

A deep part of Erik cried out at the thought of being parted from his Christine that long. How would he survive months without her?

"Angel? Angel, please say something, anything," she pleaded.

He sighed, steadying the quaver he felt forming in his voice. "This upsets me greatly, Christine."

"I'm not sorry I'm leaving," she said quietly, to his surprise. "But I am sorry that it will be away from you."

There were no lessons that day, he was ashamed to say he sulked with his few remaining days with her, and his disapproval wore down on her hidden excitement.

A week later, as she hugged her surrogate family goodbye, Madame Giry slipped a flower into her hand.

Cyclamen. Christine held the flower close the whole way to the Chagny house.

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><p><em>Cyclamen: Resignation and <em>_**Goodbye**_


	13. Chapter 13

Sorry about the extended lateness, midterms, classes and overall chaos are invading my everyday life. Here's some more fluff for you to enjoy!

If I owned Phantom of the Opera, Raoul would have believed in cooties as a child.

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><p><strong>Chapter 13: The Sun is Always Shining When I'm With You<strong>

It wasn't until summer was coming to a close that Christine returned to the Opera House. From the moment she stepped out of the carriage, everyone could see a distinct change in Christine Daae. Four months was not enough for a grand change in appearance, but she carried with her a newfound air of womanhood.

But, under the guise of a straight back, raised chin, and secretive smile, her heart pounded. Her attention was distracted even as she greeted her friends and reunited with the Girys. There was only one person in the Opera House who could command her attention so.

He'd given her his flower, said his goodbye, but would he really forgive her extended sojourn?

With this new air of maturity came a new mannerism. Whereas before, she would have avoided him as long as possible, she now sought to face him immediately. She knew he would eventually seek her out anyway.

Though she was aware of this, her stroll to the chapel was more like a march to the gallows. With her heart pounding, her pulse racing and fingers quivering lightly, Christine approached the angel portrait and fell to her knees.

"You have every right to be angry," she whispered brokenly.

Without her ever knowing how, a daffodil landed lightly on the ground right in her line of sight. As she inspected it wonderingly she heard his voice.

"How could I be angry when my little sun has returned to bring light to my days once more?"

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><p><em>Daffodil: <em>_Regard, Unrequited Love, You're the Only One, __**The Sun is Always Shining when I'm with You**_


	14. Chapter 14

Just got her new Phantom 25th anniversary concert DVD today. Excuse me while I bawl in a corner and hum Webber for the rest of my existence.

If I owned Phantom….Ramin Karimloo would be my alarm clock every morning.

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><p><strong>Chapter 14: Jealousy<strong>

Reassured that her angel was not angry, Christine immediately burst into the tale of her summer. There didn't seem to be a detail she left out.

Including all there was to hear about a certain Raoul du Chagny.

Her sweet voice continually sprouted that horrid name, the Phantom noticed. In between stories of seaside games, a lost scarf, and childish rhymes, there lingered a soft smile and a light in her eyes that set his teeth on edge. Though he knew it was illogical that this young whelp would ever lay eyes on Christine again, a deep part of him twisted at the idea of anyone else holding a piece of Christine's heart.

Even when her narrative was done, Christine could not contain her excitement. With a quick farewell to her angel, she bounded off to go and tell Meg of everything that had happened.

For ages, the Phantom sat behind the wall of the Chapel seething. When he finally found it in himself to turn away, he was startled by the sight of Madame Giry.

"I somehow guessed I would find you here," she murmured with a hint of something that only made his anger burn hotter.

"Now is not the time for your taunting, Giry." With a crack of his cloak, he moved to pass her, only to find his path barred by a small marigold held in her delicate fingers.

"I never imagined I would ever see you like this, Erik."

His shoulders slumped. "Depraved and…jealous?"

"Besotted."

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><p><em>Marigold: Cruelty, Grief, <em>_**Jealousy**_


	15. Chapter 15

For those of you who have not bought this new DVD yet…get it. Get it right now. IT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE PEOPLE.

Once again….review because it gives me ideas as to what is coming next….and how soon it comes wink wink.

If I owned Phantom of the Opera, this scene would have been in it, so I could coo at Erik's adorable obtuseness.

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><p><strong>Chapter 15: Falling in Love<strong>

Days after Christine's return and his subsequent conversation with Madame Giry, the Phantom was still unable to shake the woman's words from his mind.

_Besotted…_

He? Besotted with the young Christine Daae? Was that the emotion stirring inside him, making his thoughts scattered and his heart pound? It couldn't be true. It wasn't possible.

Trying to forget about a mad woman's ravings and his own newly-rising feelings, Erik worked his mind to its very limit. He tried to compose, but he found his melodies too sweet, too feminine, too suited for a light soprano voice…_her voice_.

Taking up a long-neglected art, Erik found his lonely paintbrush and set himself to a task he could thoroughly lose himself in. It seemed to be working….until he focused long enough to see himself painting a beautiful, yellow rose.

Incensed beyond belief, he swiped his tool against the colors and brought it down on the painting with a harsh cry. Throwing his paints and brush to the floor, he reached for the picture, intent on destroying the damned thing, only to be suddenly startled out of his anger.

His spontaneous action had quite the unexpected result. Whereas the flower had been yellow before, there was now a conspicuous crimson streak adorning the edges of the petals.

Understanding this language better than the words Giry had forced upon him, the Phantom allowed himself to reach a moment of clarity, and let the truth whisper freely in his thoughts:

"_I'm falling in love with Christine Daae…"_

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><p><em>Yellow with Red tip: Friendship, <em>_**Falling in Love**_


	16. Chapter 16

So, I know that this puppy is a little late, but you guys know how it is. Unfortunately, fanfiction takes second to life, and life has been pretty hectic on this side of the screen lately. However, it's now summer, the season of freedom and this happy author has her brother to thank for a renewed inspiration.

Why, you ask? Well, after a nice trip across Europe, including France, he returned bearing the gift of a French copy of Le Fantome de l'Opera. Do I read French? No. Do I care? Hell no.

Literal tears of joy people. My life is pathetic.

I DIGRESS. Here is your long overdue chapter!

Disclaimer: If I owned Phantom of the Opera….I would probably be able to read French.

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><p><strong>Chapter 16: Concealed Love<strong>

In the days that followed Erik's realization, he carried a lightness in his chest he had never experienced in his tragic life.

_I'm in love with little Christine Daae._

The idea echoed incessantly in his head, pushing its way to the forefront of his thoughts, but Erik expected this. In his mind, he likened it to the early stages of a fledgling composition, where notes and words and sweet music resonated in the deepest parts of his soul until he found the right notes to make them come alive.

The only sensation Erik found unfamiliar was this _emotion_ within his chest emphasized with every beat of his heart. It was always stronger in the presence of Christine, embarrassingly enough, where he fought to make his voice the tone appropriate for the Angel of Music.

Drawing on the knowledge he possessed, Erik wondered if, like his music, he needed to express his feelings.

That, of course, would include him professing his love.

Amidst his wonderings, Erik caught sight of Christine through a window of the opera house. In the winter air of Paris, Christine was swaddled in a disturbingly familiar bright, red scarf.

The heaviness crept back to its usual place of honor over his heart.

That night, the Phantom stood in his lair staring at an open flame, allowing a small acacia blossom to slip through his fingers into the hungry fire. As it burned, he made a promise to himself.

_I must never let Christine know I love her._

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><p><em>Acacia: <em>_**Concealed Love**__, Beauty in Retirement, Chaste Love_


	17. Chapter 17

****So, sorry that I had to decide to continue the story on such a debbie downer chapter. Especially such a happy moment. Oopsies.

If I owned Phantom of the Opera everyone would have just loved each other.

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><p><strong>Chapter 17: Good Luck<strong>

Christine remained unaware of the turmoil that surrounded her tutor. Instead, she absorbed all of his lessons and listened as her voice became a thing of beauty.

However, as important as these lessons were, the majority of her time was spent in ballet training. Christine rose amongst the younger ranks until she stood toe to toe (quite literally) with little Meg Giry, the child prodigy of her own art.

Though, in Christine's opinion, dancing was not quite on par with singing, she could never deny the thrill she felt during a performance. To perform in front of a captivated crowd was to feel powerful in a way that went beyond explanation.

But that feeling was reserved for Meg, who led the ballerinas in the performance they were rehearsing for. That is, until Meg twisted her ankle and little Christine was given the role of lead dancer.

A panicked Christine fled to her angel.

Soothing her with words of encouragement and praise, Erik did his best to reassure his student that she would shine, but, though she nodded and quietly left the chapel, he knew her worries were not assuaged.

Later that night, as Christine prepared for her entrance, she reached for the flowers that she needed for the enchanted garden scene, only to feel something unfamiliar. Stealing a glance, she saw a bouquet of Bells of Ireland rather than the fake roses she'd expected.

Her pounding heart quieted; her mind cleared of everything but music; and her performance was flawless.

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><p><em>Bells of Ireland: <em>_**Good Luck**_


	18. Chapter 18

GET READY TO COO PEOPLE

If I owned Phantom, there would be THIS MUCH fluff and thismuch angst.

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><p><strong>Chapter 18: You're adorable<strong>

The moment the performance was finished, a little ballerina fled from the stage through the hallways of the opera house in order to take her place of honor on the chapel floor.

Without even waiting for a confirmation that he was there (because, by now, she just _knew_ somehow), Christine exploded into a complete retelling of the show with every minute detail included.

Erik beamed with pride and amusement listening to his little protégé speak. He knew that, if left alone, she would go on for hours, and, indeed, when she began to aptly describe the facial expressions of every person she saw in the audience, he stopped her.

"Little one, did you think I would not watch?"

"You saw?"

"Your angel has wings, Christine; I may leave this chapel if I wish. I saw the whole performance from beginning to end. You have impressed even your mentor."

What he didn't mention was that Box 5 was the perfect vantage point from which he could see Christine on stage. While she had heard the rumors of the Phantom, he had no desire to connect the demon that plagued the Opera House to the Angel that soothed her worries.

He noticed Christine lovingly stroking the skirt of her costume. "I wish I could wear this forever. It's so beautiful."

Erik could not resist teasing her. "It makes you look like a white Camellia," he noted calmly, waiting to see her reaction.

Christine blushed a pretty pink, and Erik found himself smiling.

* * *

><p><em>White Camellia: <em>_**You're adorable**_


	19. Chapter 19

****And in comes Carlotta. Bitches on wheels.

If I owned Phantom, Carlotta would have been born a mute.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 19: Wishes Will Come True<strong>

After Christine's break, her confidence was at an all-time high. Not since childhood, not since Papa's admiration had she remembered feeling so sure of herself.

But she had her angel to thank for that.

Knowing this, Madame Giry made a recommendation to Monsieur Reyer that Christine was overqualified to be a ballerina, and should join the chorus instead, knowing Christine had the talent to become a leading soprano.

Hearing what Madame Giry had done, Christine was speechless, but she overcame that quickly and thanked Giry with hugs and tears that touched the older woman deeply.

At her first practice, Christine strode over to the much older chorus members, joining their warm-up and smiling as the adults complimented her voice.

That is, until their lead showed up for rehearsal.

Carlotta, seeing a head of curls at everyone's waist, marched up to Christine and sneered. "This is a jest. Just what do you think you're doing here?"

"Carlotta," Reyer interjected, "meet the newest member of our chorus, Christine Daae."

"I didn't know you were running a daycare."

Their laughter echoed loudly in Christine's ears, but she made herself endure it. Only when Christine stumbled into her chapel, finding bells of white heather on the floor she let herself break down, safely under the watchful gaze of her angel.

"Carlotta is no better than a toad, little one. No matter what she says, I will see to it that this theater will someday fill with people who have come solely for your voice."

* * *

><p><em>White Heather: Protection, <em>_**Wishes will come true**_


	20. Chapter 20

****You know you are way to obsessed with this musical when you log into fanfiction and click the Remember Me box while singing "Think of Me"

I don't own this play, I just have a severe problem.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 20: Perfection<strong>

Christine tried her hardest to improve herself. She spent mornings ensconced in lessons with her angel singing her heart out until he was satisfied. During the day, she trained with Madame Giry and Monsieur Reyer, who were even harder to please.

With this relentless schedule and so much pressure, it wasn't long before Christine paid the price for her rigor.

During an exhausting rehearsal, in the midst of a routine, Christine suddenly fainted sparking panic across the stage…and below it.

The instant Erik heard of his student, he fled across the Opera House to the attic above her dormitories in time to catch a conversation between Christine and Meg.

"Christine, you must not push yourself so hard," Meg reprimanded her gently.

"Meg, I have not worked hard enough. I _must be_ perfect."

"For whom, Christine?"

Before Christine returned to sleep, she whispered, "for _him._"

Though Meg did not understand, Erik did.

_The little fool_, he thought furiously.

Later that night, Christine awoke with the innate knowledge that she was not alone in her room. Suddenly, there was a soft brush at her forehead, tender as a kiss, and even softer words spoken.

"You are already perfect to me."

When Christine woke up the next morning, she thought it a dream, until she spotted the Sweet Williams on the pillow next to her face. A part of her fluttered at his kindheartedness.

But another part of Christine wondered if she left her Angel in the chapel when her lessons were finished.

* * *

><p><em>Sweet William: <em>_**Perfection**_


	21. Chapter 21

BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH BUMBUMBUMBUM BAAAAAAAAAAAAH

I think this will be the last chapter before things start looking a little more familiar, my lovelies. Enjoy it while you can.

If I owned Phantom, I don't think I would have to watch the movie so damn much

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21: Better Things to Come<strong>

Christine dreaded her first rehearsal back after her sickness. Knowing the other members, there would surely be taunting for this.

She was mistaken.

Her collapse only proved to the others Christine was working herself to the bone. She was greeted warmly, Carlotta kept her mouth shut, and Reyer showered her with compliments.

But that was not all he did.

Pulling her aside, he confided in her that he felt she was ready for him to assign her a minor role in the next production.

The feeling she had was similar to when she earned her dance solo: a mix of anticipation and overwhelming fear.

However, this time, she did not confide in her Angel. She reasoned that she simply wanted to surprise him, but, in truth, she was still shaken from the idea that he did more than teach her how to sing.

The night of the performance, Erik wished her luck as usual and took his place in Box 5 to watch the show. Imagine his surprise when Christine joined the members of the select chorus. He tried to keep up with the performance, really, but he could not draw his eyes away from her. Her presence was captivating. Her voice was pitch-perfect.

As she skipped to join the actors seated for a picnic, the Phantom of the Opera watched his student pluck an apple hanging amidst a sea of blossoms and let the wheels of his mind turn.

It was time to see her on that stage.

Alone.

* * *

><p><em>Apple Blossoms: <em>_**Better things to come, **__Symbol of Perpetual Concord, Temptation_


	22. Chapter 22

So, I was doing my nightly watch of my 25th anniversary Phantom DVD while plotting this little piece, and happened to notice some very distinct red flowers on Christine's sash for Think of Me.

I LOVE IT WHEN THIS ACTUALLY WORKS.

It's not in the 2004 movie version, but if you're curious, you can look up the Broadway dress. It's simply stunning.

If I owned Phantom, every scene would have a curiously hidden flower for poor, obsessed fanfiction authors.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22: Play<strong>

On from one play to the next, the Opera House found itself transforming to fit its next production: _Hannibal_. Dancers memorized their newest routines, the orchestra ran through the unfamiliar score, and chorus members worked through melodies.

Glowing from her latest triumph, Christine was happy to return to the chorus. However, regardless of her aspirations, her mentor meticulously taught her every inch of Alyssa's role and made her practice persistently.

She wouldn't argue with him, never, but she couldn't help her curiosity. What was he thinking?

"We've been working on this piece for a while. Might we move on to another?" She would suggest, "If I'm making the same mistakes, should we try another opera?"

She received nothing but an adamant refusal to all of her polite queries.

By the time the dress rehearsal came, Christine simply decided to let her Angel do what he wanted.

_Crack!_

Everything seemed to happen within the blink of an eye. The scenery came down. Carlotta quit. The show was cancelled.

And suddenly she was singing.

Caught up in the moment, Christine simply did what she was taught. Within the hour, she was in her new dressing room, staring down at her first costume for the evening.

But it had not belonged to Carlotta. The dress was found backstage, a perfect recreation, brand new….

It fit Christine perfectly.

Holding the sash with a white knuckled grip, Christine gently ran her fingers over the red beaded flowers, and wondered what game she was playing into.

* * *

><p><em>Hyacinth: Games and Sport, Rashness<em>

_Red Hyacinth: __**Play**_


	23. Chapter 23

Just a fair warning, this note will be significantly less frivolous than its predecessors. For those of you who also choose to use this website to get your words and stories out there, you may understand this. I have been attempting for months (Note: _attempting_) to publish my very first novel. The process is truly grueling, and every rejection is more than just a setback; it's a slap in the face.

This is the part where I express my undying gratitude to those who continuously leave fond reviews and critiques. Amidst a sea of refusals, you remind me that there are those who do indeed love what I write. I do it for you guys.

If I owned Phantom, I'd actually be a published author, and I would never have to write another damn query letter again.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 23: Too Many Meanings<strong>

There was no feeling Christine could ever compare to that which she felt by the end of her performance.

_If I were any happier,_ she thought, _I would be flying rather than walking._

The roar of the audience rang in her ears as Madame Giry guided her to Carlotta's dressing room, shooing admirers who wanted to greet the Opera House's newest star.

With a definitive slam of the doors, Madame Giry sighed and turned to greet her ward with a delighted smile.

"You did very well, my dear." Christine didn't see the way Madame Giry's smile wavered as she turned to retrieve what was to be delivered, but Madame Giry did notice the way Christine's eyes widened upon seeing the proffered red rose.

"He is pleased with you."

Christine barely noticed Madame Giry's departure as she sank down into her chair. A red rose? She knew without consulting her book that there were numerous meanings hidden between crimson petals.

Did he mean "courage" for taking on the role? "Congratulations" for a successful debut? Or maybe it was simply a "job well done"?

But there was always the other possibility….

Christine's cheeks reddened to match the petals. It couldn't possibly be…_that_. It was merely a fantasy, a delusion of her mind.

So, why was her heart beating so quickly?

She would simply have to ask him, she resolved. Then she would know, and then maybe she could thank him for giving her what may be the happiest night of her life.

* * *

><p><em>Red Rose: <em>_Love, Beauty, __**Courage**__ and Respect, Romantic Love, __**Congratulations**__, __**"I Love You" (?),**__ "__**Job Well Done"**__, Sincere Love, Respect, __**Courage**__ & Passion_


	24. Chapter 24

****I'm not sure what took so long to write this chapter. It's been quite a struggle, and I still don't really like it. Maybe it's because I'm trying to work with actual plot, maybe it's because emotions are conflicting and Christine's thoughts aren't very forthcoming,

or maybe it's because I absolutely despise the character Raoul with every fibre of my Phan being.

Oh, please, only in my dreams would I own this franchise.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 24: True Love<strong>

The instant Christine heard Raoul's voice, she was distracted from her musings. While he was singing of never-forgotten moments, she was silently berating herself. How could she have forgotten reality? Harboring feelings for her teacher was no more than wishful thinking.

When had it even become wishful thinking? Hadn't she been afraid of him just hours ago?

_Enough_, she thought to herself, _he is your mentor, but before anything he's your father's angel, and angels have no time for imperfect students. _

But hadn't he claimed she was perfect to him?

Brain thoroughly addled, she turned her attention to her suitor, and saw in him someone on the outside to confide in, but when she tried to bring up the idea of her Angel of Music, he merely moved on to thoughts of supper.

He paid no heed to her protests, deftly slipping out the door in search of his hat.

With a sigh, Christine ran her fingers over the bouquet he'd presented her, not really surprised when she caught sight of forget-me-nots.

_Is this fate's game I've played into?_ She'd had plenty of good memories with this man, remembered each one, but was it true love just waiting for her or simply an overtaxed mind seeking answers to life in a bundle of flowers?

But…they'd proven their worth a thousand times, maybe they simply trying to do it again.

Steeling her resolve, Christine strode to her wardrobe and tried to stifle any misguided thoughts and foolish feelings concerning her Angel.

* * *

><p><em>Forget-Me-Nots: Good Memories, Remember me forever, faithful, <em>_**True Love**_


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25: I Can't Live Without You**

Erik would have gone straight to his student immediately following her _breathtaking_ performance, but Madame Giry made it clear that the prima donna needed some time to collect herself. Despite her warning, he couldn't resist leaving her a floral message.

It was only after he had left that he realized how many different ways it could have been interpreted. Ruing his mistake, he rushed back to the dressing room to speak with Christine.

The scene he chanced upon was _not_ what he expected.

He had watched over Christine ever since she first visited his Opera House, helped her heal after the loss of her father, cultivated her voice until she received recognition, but had carefully kept himself from revealing his feelings, satisfied with securing her happiness and loving her from afar.

But to see this arrogant whelp wooing her with childhood memories and a handsome face made a devil out of the angel he pretended to be. Fear of losing her, made him nearly mad with rage.

He lashed out at the wall by his shoulder, making carefully-painted, plaster primroses crumble to the ground.

Something had to be done before it was too late.

The part of his mind not consumed with murderous thoughts calculated his options, drawing him to only one conclusion. He had hoped for more time, but he couldn't lose her. Not Christine.

Waiting in the shadows for her suitor's departure, the Phantom made a decision that would change the course of his relationship with Christine Daae.

* * *

><p><em>Primrose: <em>_**I can't live without you**__, Young love_


	26. Chapter 26

****I do not own Phantom of the Opera. I'm just a number one Phan.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 26: Worth Beyond Beauty<strong>

The resolution that Christine used to justify her feelings for Raoul quickly crumbled the instant she heard his voice. Christine could never find it in her to fear that harsh and angry voice, though. No, it was the idea that he would leave that terrified her.

_Enter at last Master…._

From his side of the mirror, Erik gazed upon his student. Dressed in white from head to toe, she looked like a beautiful flower, one that he had meticulously cared for until she stood blossomed before him. He had never seen anything more beautiful.

_I am your Angel of Music…_

Finally, he stood before her. In Christine's dreams, her angel was an unearthly handsome being with a halo and wings, but this dark figure was nothing like what she imagined. With a pristine, white mask in place, she couldn't even see his face, but this was the man who had given her her life back after the crippling loss of her father, who had been her constant companion all these years.

_Come to me strange angel…._

Though it was her beauty that captivated him at first, the sound of her voice calling to him entranced Erik like nothing else. From the smile that lit her face, to the sound of her song, his heart pounded with such love he knew would never fade. This kind of love never died.

_I am your Angel of Music…_

No, she thought.

_Come to your Angel of Music…._

Her worth is beyond her beauty.

* * *

><p><em>Sweet Alyssum: <em>_**Worth beyond beauty**_


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27: The Unattainable **

One moment, Christine was in her dressing room, preparing for her night out, the next she was being led through the catacombs by her Angel of Music. Since childhood, she had wished and wished to see her Mentor and Angel in person, to experience his world that both thrilled and terrified her, but she had also heard legends of the monster that prowled behind the walls of the theater.

So, who was the man who held her hand as delicately as he would hold a blossom? Angel or Phantom?

The music that came from her and the notes that filled the air were ones that Christine had never imagined herself capable of. What was this place that melodies filled her thoughts and thrummed in her soul?

When he sang to her, when he shared that music of the night that she found herself craving more with every breath, she felt herself leave the world she knew; she felt herself completely surrounded by the thrill of his world, a world completely devoted to music.

She was so entranced, she didn't even see it at first.

He came to a stop in front of an alcove, and, when she looked inside, she saw her face staring back.

It was all too much Christine to handle at once. Upon seeing her replica beautifully clothed in a wedding dress, Christine fell into the arms of her Phantom.

She was so shocked, she didn't even notice the beautiful bouquet of blue roses the mannequin held.

* * *

><p><em>Blue Roses: The <em>_**unattainable**__, the __**impossible**_


	28. Chapter 28

Desire might be putting it a tad lightly, but there was no flower that meant "A-love-that-burns-with-the-white-hot-intensity-of-100-suns-and-borders-on-obsession-but-just-happens-to-have-a-great-score"

We'll have to work on that

I do not own Phantom of the Opera. Stop making me admit it, universe.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Eight: Desire for Affection Returned<strong>

Erik was in a state of euphoria.

When the night started, he was on the verge of losing his beloved student forever, but now…

She had chosen him and followed him down to his domain. As long as he lived, Erik would never forget the sound of her voice intertwined with his as they ventured through the catacombs. Nor would he forget the look of enchantment on her face when he sang her his music of the night.

Staring through the filmy fabric, he watched as his own angel of music slept amidst the sounds of his music box.

The image, paired with the floating notes provided by his prized position, stirred the embers of his creativity into a roaring flame. Turning away from an image burned into his soul, Erik made his way back to the piano in the heart of his domain.

He set right to work. Their journey became a blend of melodies; her song was a piercing aria, bringing life to the piece, his own was a deep, all-consuming crescendo of sound, taking it from one movement to the next.

_Their music was beautiful_, he realized wonderingly as he scribbled notes and measures of perfection, _but does she think the same?_

He froze for a moment. To have Christine consumed by the same music that held a grip on his soul – their music. He watched, fascinated, as goosebumps rose on his arms, and hurriedly gave the piece the name that gave it its true meaning.

_Jonquil._

* * *

><p><em>Jonquil: Love me, Affection returned, Desire, Sympathy, <em>_**Desire for Affection Returned**_


	29. Chapter 29

I think my roommate is just beginning to understand how obsessed I am with this musical.

Tonight's conversation:

"What are you watching?"

"Oh! Phantom of the Opera!"

"…..You were watching that yesterday."

"…yeah?"

"And the day before that."

Oops.

If I owned Phantom of the Opera, I would have probably gone to a school where this would be considered normal behavior.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Nine: Beware I am Fanciful<strong>

Meanwhile, safe and sound in the parlor of his family's large estate, Raoul couldn't stop pacing. Worry for Christine ate away at him with every step. He had been gone for less than two minutes, surely that was not nearly enough time for an ill fate to befall his childhood friend!

Before he could ponder all of the terrible possibilities, a voice interrupted his musings.

"Pardon me, Monsieur, but it you have a message."

_Maybe it's about Christine_. The mere idea made him snatch the missive from his servant's shocked grip and rip it open with less than suitable decorum.

But its contents were hardly what he expected.

Written on plain, black-trimmed stationary, the note was simple enough to understand:

_Do not fear for Ms. Daae,_

_The Angel of Music has her under his wing._

_Make no attempt to see her again._

_-OG_

He read the note several times over, yet still did not understand. Was this a jest?

Noting a lump remaining in the envelope, Raoul ran his fingertips along the inside, only to feel something surprisingly soft. Holding out the palm of his hand, he turned over the open parcel and started when a small, pink flower drifted into the palm of his hand.

_What in the world…_

Positive that this was some machination of the greedy, new Opera owners, Raoul let the flower fall to the ground, making sure to step on it as he called for his carriage.

He _would _get to the bottom of this.

* * *

><p><em>Begonia: <em>_**Beware I am fanciful**__, Deep thoughts_


	30. Chapter 30

This is the part where the author prostrates herself for updating so late.

Eh hem.

I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRYI'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRYI'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRYI'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRYI'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY.

Pathetic Excuse 1: Life. It gets in the way of these things. Especially where college is concerned.

Significantly less Pathetic Excuse 2 (You're gonna like this one): GUYS MY BOOK IS GETTING PUBLISHED.

That is all Enjoy!

I don't own Phantom of the Opera, nor the twelve step program to get over it obviously.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty: Abandonment<strong>

When Meg Giry decided to search for her dear friend, her efforts only proved to be nightmare-inducing. The long, dark hall would haunt her dreams for some time, made her fear deeply for Christine.

Needless to say, when a timid knock sounded at the door to her mother's quarters, the last thing she expected to find was Christine, face pale and eyes red-rimmed, but otherwise unscathed.

Meg's joyful outburst soon garnered the attention of her mother in the room next door. When Christine caught sight of her mother, she stiffened in Meg's embrace and, with a solemn expression, handed her a envelope with a quivering hand.

Madame Giry read over the note quickly, pursed her lips, and nodded.

"I see," she noted calmly. Looking up at Christine, her expression softened. "You must rest, stay here for the night."

Christine nodded numbly, and Meg led her by the hand to her bedroom. Setting Christine on the bed, she flew from one part of the room to the next, telling Christine all that had transpired while she was gone, starting a pot of tea, and bringing her more blankets.

However, she was stopped short by the way her friend gazed desolately at the wall as she lightly traced her fingers over the flowers that adorned it.

Knowing her friend had a certain…._fascination_ when it came to flowers, Meg inquired, "What kind of flower is that Christine?"

Alarmed at the way her friend's lower lip trembled, Christine answered, "Anemone," and promptly began sobbing.

* * *

><p><em>Anemone: <em>_Forsaken, Refusal, __**Abandonment**__, Sincerity_


	31. Chapter 31

The shit is about to hit the fan people. Carlotta is at the very top of Phantom's Hit List.

Ps. On another quick side note. As an all-powerful and omnipotent (AKA tech-savvy) fanfiction author, I can see how many people hit up my story. In other words, when 200 visited this story visited _Language_ within the first twelve hours of posting I was so pumped, but when only two left a review (SHOUT OUT TO MAH PEEPS CABOCHON AND ANILOVESME. YOU ROCK. DON'T LET ANYONE TELL YOU ANY DIFFERENT.), I was left reeling for a bit.

I promise you, the reviews really do get the gears going in the brain and give me motivation to start right up on the next installment.

Anyway, if I owned Phantom, Carlotta would have choked on her ridiculous pink fur boa by now. Srsly.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-One: Justice Shall Be Done You <strong>

Carlotta couldn't believe this. One little runt of a chorus girl she could handle easily. However, if these notes were any indication, then she was also stepping on the toes of the Opera Ghost.

Carlotta wasn't afraid of anything, but the memory of the set crashing down around her was a fresh one. The dragon that lurked in the Opera House was too dangerous to poke.

Despite her fear, Carlotta seethed with rage. Just who did this Opera Ghost think he was dealing with?

Bursting through the front doors, Carlotta was greeted with a familiar sight: a sea of fans all waiting to adore her with praise and roses.

"Would you please give this to Ms. Daae?"

Wait. This simply wouldn't do.

Outside the Opera Populaire, a crowd of Christine's new adoring fans began to disperse, disappointed when it wasn't their star that opened the doors to receive them.

But another figure remained, leaning against a column out of everyone's way.

He had observed the entire spectacle from the back of the crowd and was greatly amused. Fiddling with his own token, he didn't register the small figure next to him until he felt a tug on his sleeve.

Surprised, he looked down to find a girl staring curiously at the parcel in his hand.

"Everyone brought roses," she began timidly, "except you. What is that?"

Smiling beneath his mask, the Phantom offered the flower to the delighted girl with a twirl of his hand.

"Coltsfoot."

Carlotta's time was coming.

* * *

><p><em>Coltsfoot: Justice shall be done, <em>_**Justice shall be done you**_


	32. Chapter 32

Don't worry all, I have not been ignoring you or this story. Year one of college is almost over, and I plan on spending this summer entirely devoted to this story. I've been writing snippets in my spare time and have some chapters all lined up and ready to go as it is. So, I think it's safe to start this back up again.

Oh, and let's make the author super happy and get to 100 reviews? Maybe? Please?

Phantom of the Opera is not owned by me, and it has over a hundred reviews, I'm sure.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Two: Vanity and Hearlessness<strong>

Christine was dumbfounded by Carlotta's lack of self-preservation.

The Phantom had been clear in his orders concerning _Il Muto_ and left a warning that was certainly less than subtle.

So, she wondered, was it bravery, pride, or courage that allowed Carlotta to continue strutting around the stage with that _ridiculous_ hydrangea-bush-looking wig stacked on her head?

Christine was not a hateful person, but Carlotta held a special place in her heart. The woman had attacked her self-confidence for nearly a decade and left gaping scars. There was no love lost between the two.

So, how had they found themselves here?

After calling Christine a _toad_ in front of a _full house_, the Phantom had seen fit to snatch Carlotta's voice right from her mouth. In an obvious effort to appease the Ghost, the owners had replaced the diva with his preferred star and sent her away for a quick change.

That was when she found Carlotta crouched backstage, clutching her throat and crying for all she was worth. Christine knew Carlotta had no friends, knew her talents were rather limited, and knew that singing was Carlotta's only remarkable trait.

Yet, the Phantom had taken that away from her all the same, and even _laughed_ while doing so.

Red-rimmed eyes turned and met hers for an instant where Christine saw nothing but hopeless misery. She could not bear the sight.

Bolting from the stage, Christine ran to her dressing room, the Phantom's laugh and Carlotta's hoarse sobs echoing in her mind.

* * *

><p><em>Hydrangea: Frigidity, <em>_**Heartlessness, Vanity**__, Thank You for Understanding_


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty Three: Rejection / "Love at first sight"**

* * *

><p>Christine was shocked by the theft of Carlotta's voice, but horrified by the following events. She was aware of the darkness in her teacher; she'd seen glimpses of it. However, her entire image of him was now shattered.<p>

She had to get out of the Opera House. Bursting through the door to the roof, Christine caught sight of Raoul and wondered if he could save her from this madness.

The Phantom stood in the snow, mocked by the words of love and devotion lingered in the air.

How had this happened? How had his plan gone so horribly wrong? He had done everything in his power to bring her as much happiness as he could.

Yet here he was, holding the red rose he had meticulously picked all the thorns off of so she would not hurt her hands, left in the cold snow to wither. He could feel his heart breaking.

Meanwhile, Christine was returning to find it without really knowing why. Did she want his flower when she knew it was stained with blood?

She was shocked by what she found

"_He was bound to love you, when he heard you sing!"_

What was this man that he could do such horrible things and still touch her soul?

Then she heard it, the echoes of their song in the air, saw what it did to him.

"_You will curse the day you did not do all that the Phantom asked of you!"_

Christine had never been so afraid.

* * *

><p><em>Dead Flowers: Rejected love, Rejection<em>

_Thorn-less Rose: "Love at first sight"_


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Will You Dance with Me?**

* * *

><p>The first month of his nonappearance, Christine either remained hidden in her room or left the Opera House as often as she could with Raoul.<p>

The second month, Christine returned from her leave of absence and attended chorus rehearsals once more. Carlotta was more vicious than ever, but Christine took the abuse without complaint. People knew Christine felt guilty for the events that had taken place, but no one sought to comfort her.

The third month, she finally found the courage to enter the chapel once more. Somehow, she knew that he lingered behind the wall, just as silent as she was, waiting.

For what, Christine did not know.

Then, the great New Year celebration at the Opera House was announced, and everyone found themselves running around preparing for the party of the year.

Christine was just as excited as everyone else. Playing with the ring hung around her neck, she felt a small smile spread across her face as she laid out her dress for the ball.

It was then that she saw it.

The shock didn't hit her at first. All she felt was confusion as she picked the flower off of her bedside table. Some distant part of her mind told her what it was: a Viscaria.

Then, she remembered what it meant.

A feeling of numbness settle over her as the flower fell from her hand to land softly on the floor. She should have known this peace wouldn't last forever.

The Phantom was done waiting.

* * *

><p><em>Viscaria: Will you dance with me?<em>


	35. Chapter 35

I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Five: Modesty<strong>

The masquerade was truly spectacular. The costumes were works of art, the music was jovial, and there was a happiness in the air that was felt by everyone in the room.

But, little did the revelers know, that a shadow lingered over their festivities.

Casting his gaze across the entirety of the ball, the Phantom took in the sight with nothing more than disdain. He saw the drunken revelry, the hidden sneers, and the wandering hands. There was no end to his disgust.

It wasn't long until his all-seeing gaze found her, as it always did. Erik knew Christine was too smart to think that he had vanished altogether. He saw it in the way she fended off Raoul's attention, the way her eyes kept searching the ballroom.

Still, it had been a risk leaving that flower in her room earlier. So, why had he done it?

Simple, he wanted her to know what was coming, wanted her to realize that she was not rid of him just yet.

He watched his Christine, beautiful as a pale, peach rose amidst a sea of dark brambles, twirled about the room in the arms of her lover. He saw her bright smile and the laughter that lit her eyes. Her purity and innocence made her impossible to miss.

He would stop at nothing to make her his again.

The masquerade was truly spectacular. Too bad it had to come to an end.

The Phantom of the Opera was done waiting.

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><p><em>Peach Rose: Modesty<em>


	36. Chapter 36

I do not own Phantom of the Opera, but I am proud to officially announce to all my loyal phan phollowers that I now have a story and character and novel to call my very own.

**WARNING**. **SHAMELESS ADVERTISING ALER**T.

I don't want to toot my own horn, but if you like this story and my writing you'll enjoy _To Be Human_by: Macaire O'Grady (pen name) now available on both Amazon and Barnes & Noble's websites. Please, please, please, if you can, help me support my writing dreams and asperations by buying a copy and enjoying it thoroughly.

Love you guys! Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Six<strong>

Christine had been on edge all night waiting for the Phantom to appear, but even her nerves were eased by the spellbinding masquerade. Eventually, she found herself spinning freely in Raoul's arms, smile lighting up her face, simply enjoying the music and glamor surrounding her.

She really should have known better.

Caught up in all of the festivities, she didn't register what was happening right away. It was the music that got her attention first; the joyful orchestral tune became dark and foreboding. The lights quickly dimmed to match it.

It was then that she saw him, though he was inevitably impossible to miss.

Tall and imposing, he looked like a vision of death come to visit, a gruesome skull mask covering his disfigured face. He was dressed from head to toe in an elaborate outfit in such a terrible red she had only seen from a geranium flower, which seemed appropriate enough.

It was folly to come here tonight in front of so many witnesses.

It was stupid of him to threaten the Opera House owners and mock its stars.

But when his gaze turned to her and ultimately softened, Christine couldn't help the comforting relief that rose within her seeing him once again.

It was folly for her to remain here without Raoul beside her.

It was stupid of her to approach him knowing how dangerous he could be.

But…

"_Your chains are still mine, you belong to me_!"

She was still his.

Why was that so comforting?

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><p><em>Geranium:<strong> Folly, Stupidity, Comfort<strong>_


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37: Pity**

After the events at New Years, Raoul was at his wit's end.

There were so many secrets kept behind the curtain of the Opera House, so much hidden in the shadows backstage. It perplexed him, quite honestly. He was an outsider compared to the artists that made the stage their home. He had an estate and a life of privilege waiting for him when he exited the opera house.

Never in his life had Raoul ever counted that as a weakness, but, now, he felt as though it was keeping him from fully understanding just what was happening between the gilded statues and behind painted walls.

It was for that very reason he confronted Madame Giry, hell-bent on finally learning the truth. Who better to ask than the woman who had grown up in the ballerina dormitories?

But the truth that was given was almost harder to understand than the circumstances that prompted it. So, here he was, wandering the wooded grounds of that same estate that kept him so sheltered from the menace that watched over his beloved fiancée every day, trying to straighten out his exact response and wondering how to use this newfound information.

Logically, Raoul knew that the picture Madame Giry had painted with her story made sense, and yet, how could he plan the demise of someone he now found himself pitying so deeply?

Planting a hand on the strong bark of a nearby pine tree, Raoul sought to ground himself, but found it impossible.

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><p><em>Pine: <em>_**Pity**__, Hope_


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: Death and Farewell**

Christine could not sleep. There were too many noises that made her jump. Too many shadows fit for hiding.

Too many nightmares lingering behind close lids.

Raoul sought to comfort her by taking guard just outside her door, but it only served to reassure himself. The Phantom had been in this room before, and he certainly hadn't used the door.

Others tried to reassure her too: Madame Giry with her watchful gaze, Meg holding her hand, never letting her go, the owners swearing they had everything under control, but it was all for naught.

In her lifetime, there had only been two people capable of making her feel safe. One was dead and the other was who she was hiding from.

Christine had the sudden panicked idea that she would never feel safe ever again. Not when her father's angel of music was the devil she knew.

But a sudden thought struck her. Obviously, she couldn't go to her mentor.

So, she would just go to her father.

Slipping past Raoul was easy. He was tired from staying up for days watching over her, and she was trained to be light of foot. She paid the horsemaster his fee and went to change into an appropriate dress when they caught her eye: roses so withered and under-watered that their petals were black, but perhaps it was appropriate.

It was time to call on a dead man, and maybe it was also time to bid farewell to her angel of music.

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><p><em>Black Roses: <em>_**Death**__, __**Farewell **_


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Love Me**

The Phantom's eye never strayed far from his student, which was exactly how he found himself at the same cemetery she was wandering through.

It was unfortunate that things had become this way, he mused as he took his place atop the mausoleum and waited for her to make her entrance. It was unfortunate that her whelp of a fiancé had involved himself, it was unfortunate that the new opera house owners weren't as petrified as the last one….

But he could not lose his Christine, not to anyone.

Her heard her voice drifting across the cold air, and closed his eyes, savoring the sound. There was no drug, no woman, no power that could overcome him like his own angel of music.

It wasn't long before she stood before him, such a small girl holding onto such a great spirit. It pained him to see her tears, her sadness, but she would not be sad forever. He would ensure that.

It was then that he caught sight of the flowers she laid on the steps, the wilted red roses so close to death they were blackened.

There was no way the Phantom could have known what Christine saw in such flowers, but his own interpretation was quite different. In his mind, all he could see were the six roses that lay in her hands, almost as if she were offering them to him.

It made his heart beat harder in his chest.

_'Her wish is the same as mine.'_

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><p><em>Six Roses: A <em>_**need to be loved**__ or cherished_


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40: Mourning**

Christine's face was so close to the steps that her nose brushed against the petals of the flowers placed there. It was only because she was so close that she saw the roses she had thought to be black were a deep crimson. Despite her mistaking the color, she supposed it was appropriate.

But, for a moment, Christine could not place her own sadness. Was she still truly grieving over the loss of her father…or was she mourning someone else?

This thought brought on a fresh wave of tears.

How had things gone so wrong, so quickly? Where was the friend that kept her company in the stone chapel? Where was the protector who kept her safe from her own sadness? Where was the mentor who had brought such beautiful music to her life?

It was as if the questions had been spoken out loud.

_"Wandering child, so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance."_

Looking up in shock, she replied, "_Angel or father, friend or Phantom, who is it there staring?"_

"_Have you forgotten your Angel?"_

Never, she could never forget, she thought hopelessly. What was she going to do without him?

_"Angel, oh speak, what endless longings echo in this whisper."_

_"Too long you've wandered in winter, far from my fathering gaze."_

She wasn't supposed to want this. She was trying to be free from him.

_"Wildly my mind beats against you."_

_"Yet my soul obeys!"_

How could she say goodbye to someone her soul literally sang for?

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><p><em>Dark Crimson Rose: <em>_**Mourning**_


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41: Anticipation**

After the disaster in the cemetery, Christine was sure that she had been added to the Phantom's growing list of enemies, which caused her to wander around the opera house with a sense of impending doom.

Christine was not the only one on edge. Everyone in the opera house seemed to realize that something was coming, something that would change the game forever, or end it completely.

Everyone knew that this would be brought out by the Phantom's new opera, _Don Juan Triumphant._

When Christine first received her copy of the score, she was unsurprised to find that hers was the largest part. Flipping through the booklet, she was startled when a single piece of parchment fluttered to the floor.

Hesitantly, Christine reached down to pick it up with quaking fingers. The sheet was not covered with notes and bars of music, but rather an elegantly-done watercolor that she didn't doubt was made by the Phantom's hand.

Her mouth ran dry when she laid eyes on the drawing of a forsythia branch.

Swallowing hard, she slid it back in its place between songs and began sight reading the final song in the book.

_"Past the point of no return…"_

Later, she was called down to the costume department, only to be told that her wardrobe was already completed. Regardless, the head seamstress requested that she try on the costumes to be sure of their fit.

She found herself dumbfounded when Christine paled at the sight of a simple, yellow skirt.

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><p><em>Forsythia: <em>**_Anticipation_**


	42. Chapter 42

Guys, I'm really sorry I haven't updated this in like three thousand years. You've all been so encouraging and patient. So, I really made the effort to have this be a Christmas present from me to you! BECAUSE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

Oh. and the best part of this present? IT'S A DOUBLE FEATURE. Honestly, though, who could put point of no return in a single chapter. as if.

I don't own Phantom, pinky promise.

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><p><strong>Chapter Forty-Two: Unity (Part One)<strong>

Anyone in the audience that night would have claimed that Christine was the picture of innocent seduction and bashful flirtation.

Those off stage could see through the act in the way her hands shook and in the sheen of sweat on her brow.

But only Christine was rocked by the pounding of her own heart and the fear that gripped her bones.

As if the looming anticipation of the Phantom's appearance wasn't enough, all eyes remained on her, and a dozen policemen had their pistols aimed at the stage.

Mechanically, she sang her part and moved to her mark, a small step on the stage, with a basket held in her quivering hands. Arranging her skirt around her, she sat and tried to remind herself to breathe, to remain as calm as she could.

That was when she saw the flowers.

_"Passarino…."_

She seemed to watch through someone else's eyes as her trembling fingers reached out and wrapped around one of the long stems.

_"Go away for the trap is set and waits for its prey."_

To anyone in the audience, they would appear to be beautiful red roses.

_"You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge"_

Those in the wings might think that they were wilting slightly at the ends.

_"In pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent….silent…"_

But only Christine could see the hint of white at the end of each petal.

_"I have brought you that our passions may fuse and merge!"_

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><p>Red Rose with white tip: Unity<p> 


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43: Unity (Part Two):**

The scene progressed.

Christine felt like a woman possessed as the Phantom's dark voice and enthralling lyrics rushed through her. Gone was the fear that had gripped her only a moment ago. It was replaced by a new feeling, something that made gooseflesh rise on her arms and that settled low in her stomach.

Once or twice she managed to get a hold of herself, to remember where she was and why she was here, but that sinful music began again and she was lost in its embrace.

They rose together over the stage one step at a time. The lyrics he had written for her poured from her mouth. On any other occasion, she would be blushing and sputtering over the words, but now she was crooning them like a seasoned seductress, and the effect was obvious.

Even from across the stage she could feel his dark, piercing gaze on her. It was still frightening how she could sense his entire being focused on her every step and sound, but this fear wasn't what she had felt before – the shaking hands and sweaty palms. This fear made her mouth go dry and her heart pound even harder.

Oh God, what spell had he woven over her?

There was no returning from this, Christine knew as he spun her in his arms. His touch set her being ablaze in a torrent of sensation. Even in the next life, she wouldn't forget this feeling.

_"We've passed the point of no return."_

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><p>Red Rose with white tip: Unity<p> 


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